


To Today

by EA_Lakambini



Series: Orbital Resonance: GOC2020 [12]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Sweetheart (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Fluff, Gift Giving, Good Omens Celebration 2020, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love, M/M, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Romance, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:47:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24139852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EA_Lakambini/pseuds/EA_Lakambini
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale are celebrating… something. Aziraphale just can’t remember what it is.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Orbital Resonance: GOC2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725724
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49
Collections: Good Omens Celebration





	To Today

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think people are feeling the angst so let's go back to tooth-rotting fluff hahaha  
> Crowley is sweeter and less awkward here compared to my previous stories :)
> 
> Inspired by an entry from David Levithan's "The Lover's Dictionary".
> 
> Prompt: memory.

Aziraphale wakes to the pop from the cork of a bottle of champagne.

He watches Crowley, still in black silk pajamas and bare feet, pour out the champagne into two flutes. _What’s going on?_ He rubs the sleep from his eyes and blinks blearily at the calendar on their side table. Nothing in particular registers.

Crowley sits by the side of the bed and hands one of the flutes to Aziraphale, before lightly clinking their glasses together. “Good morning, my angel,” he says softly, his mouth curving into an affectionate smile, the smile that he uses only for the two of them. “Cheers to today.”

Aziraphale tries to smile back. “Oh, y-yes… To today, my dear,” he answers, and quickly drinks from his flute, as though drinking champagne in bed is a regular occurrence. The bubbles dance across his tongue and down his throat; it tastes lovely, of course. The morning is lovely. While the rush of pedestrians has already begun outside, it is still mostly calm and quiet in the upstairs flat above the bookshop. Crowley seems content to slowly drink his champagne while twining his free hand with the angel’s. Meanwhile, Aziraphale continues to rack his brains, trying to remember the significance of today.

Once they’ve drained their flutes twice (Crowley is always eager to refill), the demon gets up from their bed and stretches. “You’ll be opening the shop today, Aziraphale?” he asks. Aziraphale makes a small noise of affirmation as he gets up to get dressed as well. He really, _really_ doesn’t know how to ask Crowley the reason for the celebratory champagne, and he hopes that Crowley will mention something, or at least drop a hint.

While Aziraphale is tying his bow tie in front of the mirror, Crowley steps behind him and gently envelopes him in a light embrace. “I’ll just be getting some things together this morning, sweetheart,” he murmurs into Aziraphale’s ear. “But I’ll be back soon; I’ve made sure today was kept free for us.” Aziraphale leans back into his embrace. He treasures these little moments of quiet in the mornings. It’s a time of simple conversation and simpler pleasures. If only he could just get Crowley to explain why he had to keep his schedule free on this particular day.

“I’ll see you later, my dear? Anything I should expect?” Aziraphale asks instead. He figures that Crowley will elaborate then. But the demon simply shakes his head and presses a quick kiss on Aziraphale’s cheek. “Nah, just the usual things. I’ll be back before noon. Have fun, angel,” he replies, before heading down the stairs.

Once Aziraphale is certain that Crowley is gone, he quickly goes to his table and pulls up his date books, and starts going through the pages in reverse. _No, it’s not the Apocalypse that wasn’t. Not the opening of the bookshop either. The first assignment in London? No, that wasn’t this month. The church rescue? The Arrangement? Oh, dear, I really don’t know!_

Aziraphale is so agitated that he almost sells a book to a customer; he quickly remembers himself and performs a minor miracle so the customer would suddenly fancy a cup of tea first. In between rearranging the cash box and reshelving his latest additions, he struggles to recall what could be such an important date to Crowley that he had opened champagne _in the morning_ to celebrate it.

He is so lost in thought that he doesn’t hear the bell above the door ring, and the demon saunters in.

“Come on, angel, you can close the shop for a while, take a well-earned lunch break,” Crowley says, leaning across the counter with a conspiratorial smile. “I got us reservations at The Park Room.” Aziraphale really can’t resist; he _does_ like the smoked salmon and the chocolate tart served there. When they get to the Bentley, Crowley even opens the door for Aziraphale before going round to the driver’s side. _Oh, my dear boy. Such a gentleman today. WHAT IS HAPPENING TODAY?_

Lunch is simply marvelous, and Aziraphale truly enjoys himself. Crowley is watching him from across the table, with a small smile on his face as he takes a few small bites of the salmon. He orders a second serving of the tart for Aziraphale before getting the bill, as always. And he even leaves a very sizeable tip (which Aziraphale always notices, and appreciates).

As they walk back to the Bentley, Aziraphale tries to observe Crowley’s body language. Perhaps there was some good news that the demon wanted to share? Was there something he was implying? Aziraphale really isn’t sure; Crowley behaves exactly the same as he always did: a little cutting with the remarks, but overall quite charming and very attentive to him. The perfect partner. Aziraphale’s heart does a little flip as Crowley reaches out to take his hand as they walk.

 _Oh, I’m so horrid, how is it that I just can’t_ remember?

When they have parked in front of the bookshop, Crowley suddenly reaches to get a package from the backseat of the car. “Got you a little something for today, angel,” he said proudly, while handing over the package to Aziraphale. Aziraphale carefully rips at the brown paper, and finds himself with a lovely leather-bound illuminated manuscript. He looks inside the cover, and his breath catches in his throat.

“This is an original Codex Burgundus! It’s incredibly rare, my dear!” Aziraphale exclaims, his hands shaking slightly as he runs a finger over the delicate gilding on the cover page. Crowley looks pleased with himself, but still shrugs his shoulders casually. “Not a big deal, I just cashed in on a favor,” he said. “So, wine? I don’t think we’ve finished the last of that case you got from Italy back in 1984.”

Aziraphale carefully places the new book on his desk upon entering the bookshop, gently brushing the cover with his palm. It is a very sweet gift indeed, one that he imagines may have taken more than a little effort to obtain. He now feels even guiltier because he is certain he does not have anything prepared to give to Crowley in return.

The early afternoon passes with them idly drinking the wine and chatting about everything and nothing. Aziraphale still can’t bring himself to close up shop entirely, so he goes and updates his tax records while Crowley eventually settles into a lazy afternoon nap on the back room sofa.

Aziraphale may have also done a few minor miracles to get Crowley to fall asleep, so he can sneak a look at the demon’s mobile phone. He isn’t skilled with modern technology, but even he knows that you can keep schedules and calendars and things on the screens of smartphones. It wouldn’t be too difficult to take a quick peek at Crowley’s phone, just to make sure of what today’s celebration was, right?

Well, apparently smartphones were more an invention from Crowley’s side than from Aziraphale’s, because he absolutely could not find anything remotely like a calendar. At one point he had tapped a button or icon of some sort that suddenly made the back of the phone flash with light, and he fumbled to switch it off before the demon noticed. After a few minutes, Aziraphale had to admit defeat against the blasted phone and return it to Crowley’s side, and _still_ not remembering what the event is.

Crowley eventually wakes up from his nap, and talks lazy circles around Aziraphale while the angel tidies up the front area of the shop. There is nothing out of the ordinary from the conversation or the mannerisms, and Aziraphale is quite close to getting a headache from trying to figure it all out. When Crowley steps out to get something from the Bentley, Aziraphale actually almost _curses_ in frustration.

By late afternoon, Aziraphale has worked himself up into quite a panic. He has gone through his old datebooks three more times, skimming for any possible event that he may have missed out. When Crowley returns from the Bentley, suddenly with a box of downright sinful Belgian chocolates in his hand, he just about can’t take it any longer.

Crowley must notice the distress on his face (that remains even after he has tasted the chocolate; it’s delicious, as always, but Aziraphale can taste the guilt on top of his tongue). “What’s the matter, angel?” he asks, voice colored with concern. His eyes look sad, suddenly, and Aziraphale can’t bear the idea of his demon becoming upset, not after such a wonderful day.

“Forgive me, darling, I’m sure it was something very important to you, but I – “ Aziraphale stutters slightly, and squeaks out the rest of the sentence. “I just, for the life of me, _cannot_ remember what it is we were supposed to be celebrating today!”

Crowley stares at him incredulously for a moment, then throws his head back and laughs. Aziraphale can’t hide the confused look on his face. Crowley’s laughter fades into a fond chuckle, then the demon closes the distance between them, pressing a sweet kiss to Aziraphale’s lips.

“Today is another day that you’re here with me; a day that I get to love you, Aziraphale,” Crowley says simply. “I think that’s worth celebrating.”

**Author's Note:**

> WAHH CROWLEY IS SO SWEET HE IS #GOALS
> 
> Thanks for dropping by!


End file.
